


On the Edge of Humanity

by Lauren (notalwaysweak)



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-12-02
Updated: 2001-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-05 23:20:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notalwaysweak/pseuds/Lauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the events of 'Gunmen of the Apocalypse', Rimmer realises that the crew owe a lot to Kryten. Artificial Reality havoc ensues. This is the only way I could write Rimmer/Kryten without making myself sick. Kryten's AR name from the book version of the episode (I think it was in 'Backwards'). Rimmer-shaped chocolate for anyone who can find the X-Files reference, and Ace-shaped chocolate to anyone who can find the reference to Stephen King in there (hint: it's from 'Desperation' and 'The Regulators'). The differences between the Laredo of these stories and the Laredo of Kryten's dreams is that all the death metaphors have been changed, since it's not the same situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Edge of Humanity

**Author's Note:**

> Red Dwarf characters belong to Grant Naylor.

Rimmer lies on his bunk, dreamily stroking himself, all over his body, but often returning to one particular place. That place is not the obvious -- in fact, it's not even on his body. It's the mattress on which he lies. He can touch it now, and that's a miracle.

For years now he's been insulting Kryten, treating the mechanoid as all servants should be treated, and it's only recently that he has come to guiltily appreciate the 'noid's real worth. The crew have been saved a thousand times over by his strict rationalism and science, and they owe him everything.

Maybe it's time to start giving something back. Maybe there's something he can do for the mechanoid...

* * *

'I've spent hours working on it, Krytie, and I really hope you like it,' Rimmer bubbles, leading Kryten into the Artificial Reality Suite. The mechanoid looks confused, and frustrated that Rimmer has dragged him away from his work.

'What is it?'

'I've used your old _Androids_ tapes to make an artificial world for you to enjoy. All you have to do is put on the helmet and, when it asks you to, you can either choose a pre-existing character or go into their world as yourself! It works the same for storylines, too -- you can do almost anything you like, provided it's within the scope of the soap opera world!' Rimmer is almost bouncing up and down.

Kryten smiles, non-committally at this stage, and sits down.

'I'd better come in with you, just for a moment, to see if it works,' Rimmer says.

'All right, Sir.' Kryten puts on one of the helmets and Rimmer, seated on the couch next to him, lowers his own helmet, still loving the fact that he can actually touch things.

* * *

Blackness.

* * *

'This isn't what I planned!' Rimmer is almost crying with frustration. 'The program must've wiped itself or something...'

They are standing on the main street of Laredo, the fictional town which Kryten recently renamed 'Existence' as he tried to combat a computer virus. And it's not at all the place where they're meant to be.

'Well, Sir, I don't know,' Kryten says. 'We've only just got this working again, you know... there could easily be a fault in the system.'

Rimmer's eyes suddenly light up. 'You're right! We only just got _this_ working, and there's still the _other_ setup, the temporary one in the midsection! I think Lister is playing this game now, and we got crosslinked into it somehow!'

'Mystery solved, Sir,' Kryten says.

Rimmer looks ruefully down at his Western outfit. He's wearing cowboy gear -- jeans, a shirt, boots, and a black cowboy hat. Kryten is in his sheriff's uniform. 'I guess we'll have to log out and go and tell him to stop playing for a while.'

'No, wait,' Kryten says. It's strange, hearing the mechanoid's voice coming out of the Sheriff's mouth, given that this time around, the character doesn't look nearly as much like the droid. 'There's something I have to talk to you about first.' It's the first time Rimmer has ever, ever heard that tone in Kryten's voice, too. That melancholy, isolated tone. 'Can we go for a drink?'

Rimmer nods, and they cross the street, Rimmer's spurs jingling, and enter the saloon.

* * *

At this time of afternoon, drawing down to evening, anyone would expect the Lady Day to be packed with people. But it's almost empty, Lola tending bar and two other cowboys, their heads close together, sitting at a table against the far wall.

Rimmer and Kryten order up a bottle of bourbon and choose a table right away from the other occupants of the room. Rimmer gets away with ice in his drink; Kryten takes it straight.

'What did you want to talk to me about?' Rimmer sets his glass down and looks at Kryten expectantly.

Kryten fidgets a bit. 'Well... it's not really important...'

'Oh, come on. You brought me in here for a drink, it _must_ be important.' A shout of laughter from the other two across the room interrupts Rimmer, and he glares in their direction before returning his attention to Kryten. 'Come on, Sheriff. Spill.'

'It's just that lately, I've been feeling so _inadequate_.'

'Inadequate? How could you be possibly feeling inadequate? You've saved our lives about twenty times in the last month alone!' Rimmer says.

'I'm not human. I'm a mechanoid. I'm not supposed to have emotions. And yet I feel like I'm not doing enough.'

'Forget about it. If either of us is useless, it's me. Come on, it was _you_ getting us away from Legion that meant I could lead my death able to touch things at last without having a psychopath looming over my shoulder. You're the one who came up with the dove program and saved the whole crew from being hurtled into a lava planet.'

'With respect, sir, in the end it was the Cat's steering...'

'Oh, bulldust. The Cat wouldn't've been able to steer if _you_ hadn't brought the ship back online.' Rimmer takes too large a gulp of his drink and has to have another mouthful to wash it down. 'I told you that was why I was making the _Androids_ world -- so you could enjoy yourself as a reward for all you've done for us.'

'Mechanoids aren't supposed to enjoy themselves.' Kryten looks mulish, takes another mouthful of bourbon. He refills his glass.

'Mechanoids aren't supposed to feel inadequate either,' Rimmer retorts.

'What about you? You're a hologram. You're a dead human. Don't you ever feel like you're living on the edge of humanity? You can walk among them, but damned if you _are_ one of them.'

Rimmer is quiet for a moment, examining the world through the bottom of his glass. Both of them are, usually, non-drinkers -- there's no hologrammatic Jim Beam around, and as for Kryten, he hasn't tasted mechanoid home brew since the night before he was due to die. Rimmer refills his glass anyway, because he's deciding that Kryten is right.

'I guess. A little. But then, Lister always tries to leave me out. And so do you.'

'Me?'

'"Dear Rimmer, we have gone on a fishing holiday to the ocean planet we passed two days ago. We tried to wake you but couldn't. See you in three weeks.",' Rimmer quotes. 'All three of you signed that note.'

'Oh, dear... I'd forgotten about that.'

'Forget it.'

'I love Mr. Lister and Mr. Cat, but do you ever feel like they're leaving us out?'

'I feel like they're acting like children. They can't leave us out all the time, though. Those two couldn't keep a secret to save their lives.'

'But doesn't it bother you?'

'Oh, never mind. Why should you suffer because I feel inadequate? Why should _I_ suffer because _you_ do? Let's have another drink!' Rimmer forgoes his glass, grabs the bottle, and upends it, gulping the bourbon as if it's water. Neither of them see the other two occupants of the saloon leave -- they're too busy vying to see who can get drunk first.

* * *

'Will, Dan, get up.' Lola raps on their heads with a wooden spoon. 'I got people comin' in for dinner any minute now, and you're lowerin' the look of my establishment.'

Will? Dan? Oh, right.

'Yeah, Will, get up,' Rimmer slurs, catching Kryten's elbow and trying to haul him out of the chair. 'Come on... we'll go an' sit in your office.'

'Right, Dan, right...'

* * *

'I've been rejshected since I was born... my father took one look at me and shed I looked schrawny.'

'You _remember_ that?'

'No! Mummy de_light_ed in trotting that tale out every time I transg... trans... screwed up.'

'Have another drink, _Dan_.'

The bottle rolls off the edge of the desk, and with spooky reflexes for one so drunk, Rimmer catches it. 'Thank you, _Will_.' They both laugh.

They haven't stopped drinking since they left the Lady Day, and the bottle they are presently sharing is their third. Rimmer isn't even sure if there's any floor left under the chair he is sitting on -- he feels like he's floating.

'We're both outcasts,' Kryten whimpers. 'We're both so alooo-ooone.'

Rimmer pats him on the back, and misses by about a foot, due to a lapse in eyesight. 'We've got eash other, Will. Remememember that.'

'I love you, Dan!'

'I love you too, Will!'

There's a clatter as everything on the sheriff's desk hits the floor. There's a thud as two male bodies hit the desk. They don't even hear the hoofbeats as the outlaw posse ride into town, or the gunshots as they are fended off.

And then there's just a lot of sweet moaning.

* * *

Rimmer sidles out of the AR Suite before Kryten can even lift his helmet, but is stopped by the mechanoid's voice -- back to its usual sound. 'Sir?'

'Yes, Kryten?'

'What are we going to say to Mr. Lister?'

'Nothing, Kryten. It's not important.'

He turns and almost runs for the midsection, intending to berate Lister firmly for using the other game when he _knew_ what Rimmer was doing, and doesn't hear Kryten's whisper, 'Well, it was important to me.'


End file.
